


Familiar Possessions

by EntreNous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-07
Updated: 2008-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry decides to make Grimmauld Place more like home to Remus, he doesn't realize they will come to see one another differently.   Post-DH, though in this story, Remus survived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [hp springsmut](http://hp-springsmut.livejournal.com/profile). Thanks to stoney321 who took a look at an early version of this story, and to dancetomato, who offered invaluable encouragement and enthusiasm, and virtually held my hand as I finished this thing.

"Harry! Are you up yet, Harry? I've made breakfast!"

The voice, muffled by the closed bedroom door, still managed to startle Harry awake. It was no use staying curled up if he was going to keep being summoned. He took a deep breath, flexed his toes, and opened his eyes. He'd somehow worked himself into a twist with the bedclothes, and had to wrestle them off. "Be down in a moment," he finally called back in a hoarse voice.

Fumbling for his glasses, he flung his hand in the path of a carafe of water on his night-stand and knocked it to the ground, where it promptly spilled and shattered. He swore, using all of Ron's favorite curses as well as a few other choice ones besides, before finally locating his glasses behind a figurine that Kreacher must have placed on the side table.

At least when his brain caught up, it was only a moment's work to pull his wand from under his pillow and mutter the words that would make the water disappear and the carafe repair itself.

He sighed as he glanced around the room. Three months after the Battle at Hogwarts, and he remained unaccustomed to waking in Sirius's old bedroom at Twelve Grimmauld Place. The constant work of renovations made his surroundings even less familiar week to week as furniture had to be shuffled from room to room and walls were shifted by construction spells.

After scratching his belly and yawning widely, he swung his legs over the side of the mattress and stood to fish out a tee shirt from the bureau drawer. He didn't want to wander about downstairs in only his pajama bottoms, even though he was certain that his housemate would not mind.

"That smells fantastic," he said as he entered the kitchen.

"I had a job convincing Kreacher I could manage breakfast on my own," Remus said with a smile. "I think I can do a fry-up without help every so often. Sit down; there's coffee."

Harry grunted in appreciation as Remus placed the mug before him. "Sugar?" he croaked out.

"Already in it."

"Thanks."

"Letter for you," Remus noted as he returned to the eggs.

"Yeah?" Harry shifted to look at the scroll lying on top of the current _Daily Prophet_. "Probably from Ginny," he noted.

It had been two months since he and Ginny had decided that they ought to date other people for a time. After she undertook a summer course at Beauxbatons (like many other Hogwarts students who had not experienced much in the way of education during the year Voldemort's cronies had controlled much of the school), they exchanged a few awkward letters.

Harry had been wondering how to introduce the idea that they should perhaps ease away from one another for a while when she flooed him to talk about how things stood. To his relief, they agreed spending nearly a year apart had taken more of a toll than they might have imagined. He had agreed readily when she suggested that as long as they were separated for some months more with the Hogwarts' school term nearly at hand, they might as well call things to a halt for now.

After that decision, they began to correspond with an easy friendliness on a regular basis. He admitted to himself that he felt a twinge or two when she mentioned any boy's name more than a few times. A part of him thought something might work out for the two of them eventually. But mainly he now read about her classes and encounters as he might with any other quill friend, and those former intense feelings for her had faded to pleasant, distant memories.

"Want some privacy?" Remus stood poised with his own plate in front of another chair. "I could go in another room if you like." Remus had taken to being very solicitous about Harry's potential heartbreak related to Ginny no matter how many times Harry told him that he felt all right about how things had ended. Harry might have gotten impatient with him for his occasional shoulder squeezes and continual offers to make tea had not Hermione mentioned Remus's attempts at offering comfort were probably what Remus needed himself. With that in mind, Harry tried to accept the attentions with good grace and do small things for Remus in return.

"What? Oh, no need." Harry looked up and smiled. "I'll have a look at it later." He pushed the letter aside, and went about eating his breakfast.

Remus raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he unfolded the _Daily Prophet_ to the Quidditch scores.

"Thanks for this," Harry said later, when Remus was pouring them each a second mug of coffee.

"It's as much for me as it is you," Remus remarked. "I have to go to the Ministry today, and there's likely to be a long wait before I get in to speak with an official. Seemed a good idea to have a proper meal first. Then I'm off to spend a bit of time with Teddy."

Harry nodded, deliberately not reacting to the wistfulness in Remus's voice as he spoke of his son. Remus tended to put up a brave front about things and Harry didn't wish to make him uncomfortable.

He would have been glad to listen if Remus wanted to speak about his troubles. How could he, though, when Remus kept the conversation on neutral or trivial topics as much as possible?

In fact, Harry had only once heard Remus speak about how difficult it had been when he realized Tonks had died. And he would not have been privy to that had he not lingered inside the Burrow while the others stepped outside the night after Fred's memorial service.

As he had closed his eyes, leaning against the counter in the quiet and dark of the kitchen and sipping a cool glass of water, he realized Remus and Molly were conversing quietly in the next room. He didn't want them to think he was eavesdropping, especially as he imagined Remus would be comforting Molly on such a difficult day for her. But it seemed too late to slip into the garden with Ron and the rest, so he kept silent.

"When I woke and saw her beside me, I just . . ." Remus's words trailed off.

Harry very nearly dropped the glass he held.

"We were shocked," Molly put in. "We thought for certain both of you -- and your poor little boy would grow up an orphan. When we realized you were alive, you can't imagine how grateful we all were. We had lost many people already, and when Fred . . . that you had somehow survived lifted a bit of the sorrow."

"It didn't feel like I had survived when I realized that she hadn't. I didn't know yet that Voldemort had been defeated, that the Death Eaters had been taken down," Remus continued. "Even if I had known as soon as I regained consciousness . . . I don't know if I would have thought it was worth it."

"It must have been a dreadful moment."

There was a pause, and then Remus said, "Perhaps it would have been better if I had been --"

"Oh, Remus, no; you mustn't say that!" Molly sounded very close to tears. It startled Harry into moving at last, and he had gone outside before he heard any more, staring blankly at the dark sky and trying not to think.

It had been a few days until Harry had felt all right to stop watching Remus constantly, worried that he might do something rash. And now that Harry wondered if they could broach the subject because Remus's situation had improved, Remus's determination to act cheerful and focus on everything except his losses made it seem too late.

Rather than ask about Teddy, Harry changed the subject. "You'll be back for supper?"

"Should be, yes."

"Great. I can make us something --"

"Or if Kreacher wants, let him prepare something," Remus suggested. "He made some mutterings about a lamb stew. I think he's found some ingredients he'd like to use."

Harry grinned. Remus encouraged him to rely on Kreacher for cooking a lot lately, as close as he would ever get to remarking how anything Harry attempted to cook invariably ended up on fire, overdone and leathery, or otherwise inedible.

The sound of portrait curtains yanking open made them both look up. Remus recently figured out a way to silence Sirius's mother, but she still attempted to shout when people came round even though her indignant diatribes were now delivered wordlessly.

"Give it a rest, you old bat," Ron's voice sounded from the hallway.

"Pretend you can't tell that she's saying 'Blood traitor'; there's no sense in letting her know she's getting to you," Hermione could be heard advising.

"Hullo! In here," Harry called without thinking.

"I should be going," Remus said. He had already turned in haste to find his things.

Harry grimaced as Ron and Hermione burst in before Remus had a chance to leave. It wasn't them particularly; Remus seemed to avoid everyone other than Harry of late, perhaps because he did not wish to reiterate his troubles over and over when people asked how he was. Harry meant to make things easier for Remus, meant to help with whatever Remus wanted. At the same time he wondered if trying to hide from people was the best thing for it.

"Oh, Professor Lupin, hello!" Hermione paused at the doorway with an eager smile on her face. "You're looking well."

"Hermione," Remus replied with a small smile. He had given up, he told Harry, trying to convince Hermione to call him by his first name. "Sorry I can't stay," he added, indicating his satchel filled with folders.

"Oh, of course, you must have your meeting."

Ron followed Hermione to sit down at the table, and unsuccessfully tried to catch her attention.

"I'm sure you're happy about all of the new changes in werewolf legislation the Ministry has approved recently," Hermione continued brightly. "Ow, Ron, that's my leg, not the table," she scolded.

Ron raised his eyes to the ceiling.

Remus's expression remained placid, though Harry thought he saw a flash of something in his eyes. "Yes, well . . . any progress is positive at his point."

"Making Wolfsbane Potion available to all infected by lycanthropy, free of charge? What a wonderful development. Kingsley's administration really has changed a great many things."

"Yeah, though now werewolves have to go the Ministry and meet with an approved counselor to get the potion," Ron said in a low voice.

Harry kept his eyes on his mug. No matter how things had improved for werewolves recently, it wasn't hard to tell the Ministry's involvement in managing the werewolf population came with drawbacks.

"It is an immense help, having such ready access to Wolfsbane," Remus agreed after a pause.

"And Teddy, he's doing well?" Hermione persisted. "He must be getting big!"

At this Remus gave her a tight smile. "He is. Or so I hear. I shall be able to visit him today and see for myself."

"Oh, of course," Hermione murmured. She glanced back at Harry and Ron in turn, seeming to understand this topic was not a welcome one. "I didn't mean --"

"I'll take my leave of you all now," Remus said gently. He nodded to Ron and Hermione, smiled at Harry, and slipped through the doorway.

"There really have been some tremendous advances in the Ministry's attitude towards werewolves," Hermione said in a trembling voice.

"Can't blame him if he doesn't much like having to report in to get that potion," Ron commented as he shifted in his seat.

"I think he feels a bit like a criminal, needing to make appearances regularly just to get the Wolfsbane," Harry said.

"It's not like that, Harry," Hermione broke in. "Of course he might feel a bit awkward about it from time to time. Anyone would. Still, when I read about the registration and report process yesterday it sounded like the counselors really try to be sensitive to their clients' reactions."

Harry sighed. "I’m not questioning -- it's great that the Ministry has decided employers can't be biased against werewolf candidates. If it weren't for that, Remus likely wouldn't have any translation or research work. And there aren't many who would object to trying to contain the creation of more werewolves, though I don't much think I would like having to sign an agreement acknowledging biting an unwilling wizard is a punishable offense every single month."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry kept on. "I think it would be awful to feel like I couldn't make a decision about where I lived or change position without having to tell a ministry contact. Yeah, things are improving. We just can't ignore that there are costs."

Hermione's expression was sympathetic. "Of course the Ministry would feel they need to meet with werewolves to keep track of their consumption of Wolfsbane; it's not as though they're all as responsible as Remus and would be sure to take it. Not to mention how we know even _he_ at least one time forgot --"

"Leave it," Ron said quietly.

"Coffee all right?" Harry asked.

They nodded, and he went to get them mugs.

Hermione cleared her throat as they sipped at their coffees. "I really am sorry for asking about Teddy."

"It's okay." Harry rubbed at his eyes. "Just, on top of everything else, that's been hard on him, especially since Tonks . . . " He left the sentence unfinished.

"I thought Dad said they were going to change that particular legislation," Ron put in. "And once they do, Remus will get custody of Teddy. Mum says Andromeda doesn't want to keep Remus from taking care of his son; it's more that someone had to step in."

Harry gripped his mug more tightly. "It may be a while longer. For now, that particular legislation Umbridge helped to pass still stands."

Hermione shook her head. "I think it's a shame that a werewolf parent has to concede custody to someone else if he or she doesn't have a non-werewolf spouse. If the Ministry wants to continue improving its wizard-werewolf relations -- and I really think that they want to -- they'll strike that down as soon as possible."

"Seems daft to me that it was ever approved," Ron observed. "And keeping it going is mental. Have someone else help with the baby a few nights a month and it's all settled."

"I feel sure Kingsley and the new Ministry officials will reverse the legislation soon," Hermione said. "They really are committed to helping."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I hope that's true. Remus doesn't talk much about it, but I can tell it's been hard on him."

"I imagine you can," Hermione said. "You and he have been spending a great deal of time together."

"I suppose. I was glad I could offer him a place, with all that's going on."

"It's been good for you as well, having someone." Hermione's words seemed chosen with care. "Since you and Ginny decided to part ways, you haven't had anything like that."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, obviously mystified. "He's got us."

"And of course now you have to choose what you'll do now that Voldemort has been overcome," Hermione continued without answering Ron. "Harry, it's all right to . . . need people, you know. Particularly if it helps you move ahead."

Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged. Ron seemed to understand in a way that Hermione couldn't that Harry felt like he needed some time and space before turning to weighty decisions like careers. In the period right after the defeat of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, Harry had been called upon to attend ceremony after ceremony and give far too many interviews. Everyone seemed keen on knowing his next move, but the truth was, after the relief of having such dramatic expectations removed from his shoulders, the last thing he wanted to do was take on further responsibility.

"Did we tell you about the new items George has got in development for Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes?" Ron asked suddenly.

The rest of the morning was full of conversation about George's antics, the news from Charlie, details of Percy's latest promotion, as well as the goings on of their classmates now that many of them were taking up new positions or resuming their studies.

"Goodness, look at the time," Hermione exclaimed. "We ought to leave soon."

"Yeah, all right." Ron got to his feet and stretched. "Funny thing, Remus living here," he remarked. "You wouldn't know it from the way you've got things set up."

Startled, Harry looked around the room. It was true that most of the knickknacks and possessions scattered about the house were Harry's. He had not given it much thought before now.

"If he is going to be staying on for a bit, perhaps he'd like having some of his things around," Ron continued.

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "I think that's a marvelous idea."

"I'd like to make him feel at home," Harry said. "I just never considered it that way, I suppose."

"Would you have to send for his things?" Hermione asked.

"No. He stored some boxes in the attic when he came to stay at the start of the summer. There may even be a few other things of his in storage from when he was staying here with Sirius. I could find some of his books and such, put them around the place to surprise him."

"That would be lovely," Hermione said with enthusiasm. She squeezed Ron's arm as he stood next to her. "Ron's right; it can make such a difference to how you feel when you have some of your own things around."

The tips of Ron's ears went very red.

 

* * *

 

After Ron and Hermione had disapparated away from the front door, Harry resolved to begin discovering some of Remus's belongings. He had time enough before Remus returned; he might as well put some in place around the house right away. Not to mention that tonight was the full moon; Harry hoped that Remus would feel better in his recovery from the change with some of his familiar possessions in place.

After a quick lunch of ham and chicken pie, and a slice of treacle tart, he set out for the attic.

Much of the uppermost storey's contents had already been destroyed, given away, or reincorporated. Aside from a few canvas-draped paintings and a stray chair or two in need of repair, the most visible contents were two separate sets of boxes: the first Harry's, the second Remus's packages and parcels. When Harry had finally realized Remus had no other place to stay and invited him, Remus brought his things by and stashed them upstairs that very day.

Harry blew away the thin layer of dust on the topmost crate, running his hands along the sides to see where it opened. It might take him more than the one day to go through the many boxes Remus had, he noted. His own boxes consisted of a small stack, containing mostly textbooks from Hogwarts, some specially saved letters, mementoes of major events like his Hungarian Horntail model or articles about Quidditch, as well as gifts he'd received through the years. As Remus had lived on his own longer and, Harry imagined, had moved about often, it was no surprise that he had more boxes, more possessions.

Finally realizing that the first box was sealed with nothing more than Muggle packaging tape, Harry took out his wand and cut a neat slice through the binding plastic with a quick flick of his wrist.

Only when he folded back the top flaps did he pause. He might not like someone going through his personal belongings, he reflected, even in a similar scenario in which they were trying to be kind to him. On the other hand, he did have Remus's interests at heart, and would of course avoid paging through anything that seemed like a diary. He obviously also planned on putting aside any parchments that seemed like letters or personal notes. Really, if anyone was to sort through Remus's possessions, Harry was probably one of the best people to do it.

After that initial hesitation, it was a disappointment to find the first box held only ledger books. Remus must have had to plan his saving and spending with great care, Harry thought. He remembered the mending and patches on Remus's robes with a pang. Maybe he could figure out a way to give Remus a few new sets of robes without too much fuss or protestations on Remus's part come Christmas.

With those good intentions in mind, he set aside the first box and made quick work of opening a second.

The contents of that box turned out to be sets of books on Defense of the Dark Arts topics. Remus had charmed the volumes to fit all in one box, though one series alone consisted of twelve large volumes. Harry had quite a time of figuring out how to store the books with the same charm once he had unpacked them; it took wracking his brain to finally remember a modified spell similar to the one Hermione had once used to fit all their necessities in her small evening bag. Of course Remus would notice at once that a different spell had been used to re-package his text were he to open the box. Harry consoled himself with his plan to display a great many of Remus's books in the library and still others in the recently renovated sitting room. If he were able to distribute the tomes around Grimmauld Place in the next few days, he shouldn't have a problem with Remus taking notice of his boxes being tampered with before there would be the distraction of his possessions given pride of place at the house.

After revealing the contents of three more boxes (carefully rolled parchments; a basic set of crockery; a few items that could only be sentimental objects from Remus's time at Hogwarts; and a stack of letters which Harry deliberately did not read, though he was surprised to notice how many of them were from him to Remus) he stopped. He swiped his hands along his front and down his jeans, vaguely noticing the trails of grime he left behind. He would have to have a wash before dinner.

Really, he thought as he stifled a yawn, he could do with a nap before dinner as well. He paused at the next box, resting his palms on the surface. With a number of bound parcels left, it made sense that he should take the task up again tomorrow. It couldn't hurt to go through one last crate today, though.

Once again he sliced through the tape with a flick of his wand. After removing a Gryffindor banner covering the rest of the contents, he saw a leather-bound book. As he lifted that, a photograph slipped out.

It was a picture of Bill, Tonks, and Sirius, obviously at an Order meeting. Bill swept a hand over the table they sat about, gesturing at papers laid out there. Briefly all three looked up and waved, but their faces remained serious, and they returned at once to their consultation.

The book must contain more photos. He opened the cover gingerly, not knowing what sorts of pictures he might find.

The first pages spanned early periods in Remus's life, though here or there gaps made Harry wonder if Remus had removed some photos when he was traveling or if he had them displayed elsewhere. A number featured two adults that Harry assumed were Remus's parents, the two of them waving and nodding encouragingly. A few featured a young Remus, though he was nearly always looking away from the camera, his nose in a book or his eyes fixed on some unseen object. In a rare group photo, he stood between his parents, clasping his mother's hand with both of his. His father rested a hand on his shoulder and bent to whisper something in his ear. The serious boy flashed a quick shy smile before returning to his normal contemplative expression.

Soon enough the pictures shifted scenes. There was Hogwarts years before Harry had known it and yet looking achingly familiar -- the lake, a view of Gryffindor Tower from the ground, the Quidditch Pitch just as a practicing team strode out to take the field.

Pausing over the Quidditch photo, Harry watched a slight figure mount his broom and take off in the direction of the Snitch the team captain had released. Was that his father, Harry wondered? His heart skipped, and he flipped the pages forward faster and faster before he quite realized what he must be searching out. Of course he knew after his third year that Remus must have been one of the suppliers of photographs for the album Hagrid had presented to Harry. No doubt Remus had taken a few photos of Lily and James, together and separately over the years, Harry's feverish mind told him. It stood to reason there would be at least some in this collection.

What sorts of pictures might he find as he continued to look? He had never seen an image of his dad with his mates in the Great Hall, or a photo of his mother sitting in the Gryffindor common room, studying there just as he had. He ached to see them doing just such mundane things, back when they were young and bright and full of hope.

He turned another page in haste, startling himself when a packet of photos slipped out from the book.

The packet had fallen from _between_ the slit someone had made in a page, Harry realized. At a glance, the other pages in the album appeared intact. Somehow he had happened across the only one which had been split. He hesitated. This seemed more personal than pictures readily displayed, perhaps even on the order of a diary or intimate letter. Yet the chance that Harry might find more photographs of his parents within the packet tempted him to open it.

As his trembling fingers undid the small envelope, he imagined what he would find could have been intended to go to him in the first place. Maybe Remus had collected other photos of Lily and James, intending to send them along to Hagrid at the end of Harry's first year, and had mislaid this set.

In his rush to find what was inside, he pulled the packet apart, and the photographs flew in the air only to land in front of where he knelt on the floor, most of them face up.

Harry's eyes widened and his hand flew to his mouth. No, these photographs were not of Lily and James: every one of them was of Sirius. And not the smiling Sirius at his best mate's wedding or the schoolboy grouped with his friends, but a young Sirius, maybe as young as sixteen or as old as twenty-one, naked and posing for the camera.

Remus -- no -- they hadn't -- just because the pictures had been in Remus's album meant nothing -- some other explanation --

All the while Harry's mind raced frantically, attempting to find any answer for these photos' place in Remus's album besides the most obvious, pictured versions of Sirius grinned or laughed as he lounged this way and that, obviously the better to show himself off. When one of the naked versions of Sirius, kneeling back with his arse resting on his heels (much like Harry sat at the moment) drew his long hair back between his hands, arms upraised behind his neck, and actually winked, Harry snorted out loud. Though part of him reeled from the images, the expression of naughtiness seemed so like Sirius that he had to grin back.

He exhaled as Sirius in the picture on the far right turned, presenting his back side to Harry and casting a coy look over his shoulder. He simply could not believe what he was seeing. And yet in his head he could hear Hermione's voice, _Honestly, Harry, I don't know what you expected went on between them. Remember how they acted when they saw one another for the first time at the Shrieking Shack? How they gave you gifts from the two of them, like any other couple might? How you fire-called Sirius from Umbridge's office only to have Remus answer instead?_ She had likely arrived years ago at the conclusion he was only now being forced to face, much as she had put the puzzle of Remus's lycanthropy together long before the rest of them had confronted the reality.

Harry might have averted his eyes from the picture of Sirius trailing fingers down his chest, but at this point he had already seen the whole picture, as it were, several times over. He just shook his head and picked up one of the less revealing pictures. A swell of emotion worked through him past his first embarrassed and surprised reaction. He couldn't help feel better at seeing Sirius look happy and carefree. Here he was before Azkaban had broken him, before he had been trapped in his childhood home, before his untimely end in the Department of Mysteries, and Harry's chest constricted as he thought of his godfather without the burdens of later years. Even if the photos made him blush . . .

In his focus on discovering any unseen photographs of his parents and then his shock at finding the cache of erotic pictures of Sirius, Harry had nearly forgotten his original purpose, finding familiar items for Remus to enjoy seeing displayed around the house. Harry stifled a hysterical laugh at the thought of perhaps framing one of Sirius's more sultry displays and leaving the results on Remus's night table.

Obviously he would leave the pictures as he found them, and never mention them to Remus. He gathered the scattered photographs, straightening them into a pile. When he glanced at the picture of Sirius on top, he was surprised to notice that Sirius had a thin leather strap about his neck. It almost resembled a collar that a dog might wear. Maybe a shared joke about Remus's animagus form, Harry thought.

Just then, he saw a hand reach into the frame and cup Sirius's cheek. From the position, though Harry couldn't view the rest of the other person's body, this subject stood while Sirius knelt on the floor.

Pictured Sirius visibly leaned into the touch, closing his eyes while a look of pleasure unfolded on his face. Then for the briefest of moments, Sirius lowered his head and in that pose gazed provocatively up at the man who could only be Remus, as Remus's hand moved to tug at Sirius's collar. Sirius tipped his head back, exposing his neck in a mute and hungry appeal.

Feeling that he had irrevocably crossed an immensely private boundary, Harry slipped the photos back into their packet and returned them to their hiding place in the album.

 

* * *

 

It was only as Harry dried himself off after a quick shower that he let his thoughts return to the photos.

Yes, they were from an earlier time, before he was born; no doubt Sirius and Remus had been involved then. What about afterwards -- were they together after Sirius escaped prison? It was hard to tell if the pictures spoke of a brief dalliance or were the start of a longer relationship.

Strange as it was to imagine his godfather and his former professor involved not long ago, Harry found the more he considered it, he rather hoped they had been. It eased his mind slightly to think they might have found some sort of happiness together during what had been difficult years for both.

Yet the thought of what _sorts_ of things had made them happy made him flush.

He let the towel fall to the floor and stretched out on the bed, trying to turn his thoughts to something else. It seemed impossible, though; all he could imagine were those pictures of Sirius, and the way that Remus must have been standing just out of sight the entire time, waiting to tug at that collar. He wasn't so naive as to feel shocked their relationship was sexual. Yet the way Sirius had knelt at Remus's feet, the bend of Sirius's neck, the implications of Remus's possessive touch -- it was a very different sort of dynamic than Harry had ever imaged took place outside fantasies.

It wasn't as if he hadn't had a stray thought or two of a partner taking control or playing a role of some sort. With beautiful strong girls like Ginny or Angelina around, of course he had imagined different scenarios. But that was all private, and nothing he expected to do with another person.

Thinking of the girls he pictured at times gave him pause. If Remus had been involved with Sirius at any point, how did he come to fall in love with and marry a woman? Did Tonks know about Sirius and Remus's involvement, or had her husband kept it from her?

He turned over on the mattress, pulling the sheet over for cover and blinking at the haze of sun brightening the evening summer sky. It was not long before he fell into a troubled sleep.

 

* * *

 

The next few days were awkward, though most likely only for Harry.

After his visit with Teddy and a quick meal of the stew Kreacher had made, Remus no doubt found himself too busy with the full moon, being shut up in his room after taking the Wolfsbane, and then recovering from the change to register any differences in Harry's reactions.

It was not the first time Remus had gone through the trials of the full moon since he had come to stay with Harry, but never before had Harry actually been grateful for a respite from their usual regular interaction. Nearly every day he was at Grimmauld Place up until now, he found himself glad of Remus's company. Now he noticed himself needing to compose his demeanor or school his expressions for meals or simply passing Remus in the hallways. When Remus clapped a hand on his shoulder or scratched a quill over parchment as he completed his work in the sitting room, all Harry could picture was Sirius and Remus in various embarrassing situations, the sorts of things they might have done to pleasure each other. He couldn't shake that bloody dog collar from his mind either, wondering if Sirius had worn it any time Harry had known him.

Another factor increasing the awkwardness: Harry had begun to have some rather odd dreams featuring himself, Remus, and Sirius.

In one, Sirius complained that Harry should give back his Firebolt if he wasn't going to use it, while Remus stood to the side and shook his head with disappointment. Harry tried to keep the Firebolt in his hands as Sirius grabbed the handle and tried to wrestle it away. When Harry burst out, "But it's mine," Sirius shouted that they should let Remus decide who got to keep it. Harry complained, "Remus doesn't even play Quidditch!" To his surprise, Remus stepped forward and grabbed a Snitch out of midair, saying, "Don't I play? Don't I?"

In another, Harry was attempting to affix the photographs of Sirius to his wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm. As he stepped back to observe his handiwork, he realized that all the photographs featured him, not Sirius -- his glasses laid aside as he knelt naked on the floor. When he heard banging at the door, he realized it was Remus, and desperately looked around the room for something he could use to disguise himself in order that Remus couldn't connect him with the Harry in those photos. He had just managed to screw his face up and change his hair color to blond when Remus called angrily, "Oh, never mind!" and stomped away.

In one of the more disturbing ones, Harry went to Remus's room at Grimmauld Place only to find that it was empty. He whirled around to find that the scene had changed, and that he and Remus were together at the Burrow, sharing Ron's room with its walls covered with posters of Sirius lounging naked on a broomstick. Remus wouldn't speak to him, because he thought Harry was back together with Ginny and had never let Remus know. Harry tried to follow him down the stairs, asking Remus to listen to him, but Remus only got further and further away while the stairs multiplied between them.

Of course the most disarming of all the dreams were the ones that Harry didn't remember. Whatever happened during them, he seemed to wake up from them in a sweat, panting hard, with his hand on his cock. Once he'd pulled himself off after, but when visions of Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell gave way unexpectedly to Sirius kneeling, and then a brief flash of what Remus might look like naked, Harry had run to take a cold shower.

By the time a full week had passed, Harry forced himself to return to the attic to complete his original aim that had sent him pawing through Remus's possessions in the first place. It was the only way he could think of to work through the muddle in his mind. He steadfastly avoided the photos he knew were concealed in the album, even set aside the box containing all Remus's photographs out of sight, and concentrated on finding books and items he could put in place around the house.

Remus seemed very touched by the gesture when he returned from another visit with Andromeda and Teddy, asking a few times whether Harry was sure he didn't mind Remus's things scattered about. When Harry exasperatedly told him that of course it was fine -- after all, he'd been the one to find them and distribute them throughout -- Remus gave him the first genuinely pleased smile Harry had seen from him in quite some time.

"Of course, I'll have to package my things all up again when I move," Remus remarked a week later at dinner.

"What? Why? You don't have to move anywhere," Harry said without thinking. He met Remus's intent eyes. When he thought how Sirius's playful glances in those photos were directed at those same brown eyes, he choked on his pumpkin juice.

Remus frowned and patted Harry on the back until Harry stopped coughing. "I only meant that one day I will have Teddy with me, and I wouldn't think of imposing on you then. A small child would not make the best house mate for a young bachelor."

"I don't see why not. He's my godson," Harry replied. "And you're --" He cleared his throat. Remus did not have a specific role in Harry's life, did he? Funny, that, since now Harry couldn't imagine Grimmauld Place without him. "You're both welcome here to stay as long as you like," Harry finished. "In fact, unless you have somewhere you'd much rather be, I insist."

"That is exceptionally generous of you, Harry. Please consider, though: at some point you will have a wife and a family living here with you. Even before that time, you may want to have the place to yourself without someone your parents' age lurking about."

"You don't lurk about," Harry said. He couldn't think why his cheeks felt flushed. "And don't tell me -- I said you're welcome, and I meant it."

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but then simply nodded. Even if his expression revealed he wasn't wholly convinced, at least he wasn't going to harp on it aloud.

"Do you think . . . does it seem like some of the legislation prohibiting sole custody for werewolves will change soon?" Harry ventured. As long as they were discussing future plans and living arrangements, he hoped it was all right to bring up.

"Well, it's hard to say. I don't begrudge the Wizengamot for not turning their attention to it immediately, much as I would like to have Teddy each and every day as soon as possible. There are numerous laws and mandates passed during Voldemort's shadow administration requiring their immediate attention, some of them incredibly prohibitive for Muggle-born wizards."

"All the same," Harry interrupted. "It's not right, the way things stand on this custody issue, and they should do something about it soon."

Remus folded his napkin and placed it on the table. "I did speak to Kingsley a few days ago. Even before I brought up the matter, he told me he had very nearly convinced some of key people that there should be hearings for possible exceptions on a case-by-case basis. Some of those exceptions may help move the Wizengamot to strike down the legislation sooner."

"That's fantastic!"

"I was surprised he had considered it at all. He has all too many demands on his energies and attentions right now."

"Well, he knows you from the Order," Harry put in. "It makes sense he would think of it, having you as an acquaintance. And he most likely realizes you'd be an excellent case to persuade people the law should be changed."

"Yes." Remus's lips twitched as though he was amused. "Interestingly enough, Kingsley seems to have inklings the issue is one dear to your heart."

"Oh. Well." Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I might have written him a letter or two."

Remus reached across the table and grasped his hand for a moment. "Harry, you have more influence than you know right now. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you would think to use some of it to help me and my child."

"Of course," Harry mumbled. He had hoped Kingsley would keep Harry's interference to himself. Not that he minded being able to help Remus; far from it. It was only that calling in a favor or wielding his reputation to change anything happening at the Ministry made him uncomfortable. None of it had to do with how Remus had taken his hand.

Remus just smiled at him.

As he already felt awkward, and they had managed to talk about the custody legislation without too much grief, Harry pushed on with some of the other topics he and Remus had been avoiding by unspoken mutual consent. "Er, what about the other regulations for werewolves? Did Kingsley mention anything about relaxing some of those anytime soon? Because perhaps now is a good time to push for reconsideration."

"Come now, we can't hope for something like that at this juncture," Remus said lightly. He stood and gathered some of the plates from the table.

"It's just that it seems awfully restrictive," Harry said as he followed Remus. "Ron and I were talking about it just the other day. We agreed that it has to be maddening for anyone forced to follow those requirements."

Remus set a few of the dinner things on the counter. "Well, it is an improvement on the days when I had to hide I was a werewolf to find work, or when I couldn't get the Wolfsbane potion without a fair amount of wrangling." He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and surveyed the room. "Now, do you think we should leave these for Kreacher? He seems to get testy when we do all the cleaning up ourselves."

"Stop changing the subject," Harry blurted out. "Maybe it feels best to you to avoid things, but it would make it easier if you spoke to someone about them. Nothing will get sorted by hiding away or keeping it from your friends; I know that more than anyone. Perhaps it seems difficult now, but --"

"Damn it, Harry, of course it's difficult!"

Harry flinched back from Remus's shout.

"I'm glad you and Ron agree, but don't you think I would know better than anyone how unfair this is?" Remus yelled.

"I _don't_ know," Harry shot back. "We share a house, and yet you don't let me know how you're feeling about _any_ of what's going on. You _never_ talk about Tonks, and I don't know how I can help you if you don't --"

"That's enough." Remus's voice was suddenly quiet. "Harry, I just --" He closed his mouth, his lips pressed together in a thin line. "No one can help," he said at last, and turned to head for the front hallway.

When the front door slipped shut with a quiet _snick_ , Harry reached to turn down the lamp, and began a slow trudge upstairs to Sirius's old bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry awakened to the sound of a dull thud coming from downstairs. With a fog clouding his barely awake brain, he groped about in the dark before remembering to grab his wand. Not that he would need to use it, he told himself as he lit it silently and made for the stairs. No one could break in as long as Grimmauld Place remained concealed -- could they?

He had reached the main floor when he remembered Remus had left the house earlier that night. And sure enough, it was Remus he found in the library, stumbling over a footstool and grabbing onto the imposing desk at the end of the room for support. 

"I had a few glasses of Firewhiskey," Remus announced as he slouched against the desk. "There's a very small pub off Diagon Alley."

"All right," Harry said for lack of a better response.

"Small," Remus reiterated. "But with drinks." He swept a hand through the air for emphasis, and knocked over the desk lamp. "I had several drinks."

"Listen, do you want me to make you a cup of tea?" Harry asked.

"I was horrid to you earlier," Remus remarked conversationally. "Before I had the drinks. I know I was a bastard."

"No, no," Harry hurried to say. "I was the one who overstepped --"

"I wanted to die when I realized that Tonks was gone," Remus cut in, his voice suddenly serious. "And now I don't." He tilted his head to the side. "That's terrible, isn't it?"

Harry blinked. "It's not terrible."

"I should have been the one to die," Remus continued. "How can I -- I wake up, and I think about what to have for breakfast, or whether Teddy would like a toy that I can afford to buy him now, or if you might like to come to lunch with me. And some days, I can go hours and not remember her once." He brought his hands up to cover his eyes. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "You're . . . living."

Remus huffed. "Sometimes I want to go down to the Ministry and chuck dungbombs at everyone I see until they stop this regulation and report business."

Harry hid a smile at the change in topic. He didn't think an amused reaction was what Remus was looking for right now; his expression was utterly determined. "I can't imagine any of us would blame you."

Remus sighed and hung his head. When he looked up, he brushed away his hair from his eyes impatiently. Even with his premature grey scattered in the brown, in this light he looked younger than Harry remembered. "You'll forgive me?"

"Of course," Harry said, uncertain if they were talking about the potential dungbomb explosions or the conversation they had earlier. In any case, he meant it. He took a few steps towards the desk, and Remus reached out, pulling him into an embrace. 

"You're incredibly important to me, Harry." Remus's words were muffled against Harry's shoulder. "I can't lose you too."

"You're not going to lose me," Harry murmured. Remus made as if to move away, but Harry moved forward instead, slipping his arms around Remus's shoulders. Remus's hands slid down as if by default, skimming over Harry's bare skin just above the waistband of his pajamas where his tee shirt had ridden up. 

At last Remus eased back. Harry did not move away, however. It had been a long while since he had hugged anyone who wasn't Ron or Hermione, and he didn't want the touch to stop yet.

After a beat, Remus slid one hand upwards to cradle Harry's jaw. His eyes were searching as he brushed a thumb over Harry's right cheekbone. Another beat, and his hand shifted lower until his thumb caressed Harry's bottom lip. 

Harry swallowed, unsure what he ought to do. 

Before he could make a decision, Remus's mouth was on his, brushing back and forth. His lips were dry and soft, and the touch was teasing, not anything Harry might have expected from someone who had too much to drink.

When Harry's lips parted in surprise, Remus deepened the kiss. It seemed completely unexpected and absolutely right all at once. 

Then Remus made a strangled sound in his throat and moved aside abruptly. "My god, Harry," he whispered. "I --"

And for the second time that night, Remus turned and left the house.

* * *

The next morning the delicious smells of a fry-up reached Harry's room, and he fairly leapt out of bed.

If he could smell food that meant Remus was back, and they could talk about what had happened last night. Harry rushed getting dressed, pulling a tee shirt on backwards and running out of the room barefoot in his oldest jeans.

He hadn't meant to react when Remus had kissed him, he told himself as he thundered down the stairs. He had been barely awake and obviously affected more than he thought by his breakup with Ginny, not to mention the strange dreams that had been plaguing him. It was no wonder that he had responded automatically in his confusion.

And Remus hadn't meant to kiss him at all, in all likelihood; rather, he had been off kilter because he had too much to drink, and because he obviously picked up on Harry acting odd lately. 

All of their difficulties seemed to stem from the business with Sirius and the photographs in Harry's mind. If only they could speak, Harry felt certain they could set everything right. 

However, when Harry skidded to a halt in the kitchen, he saw that it was Kreacher who was preparing the meal.

"Hands washed before breakfast if you please, Master Harry," Kreacher pronounced.

"Oh. I thought -- I mean, thanks." He went and washed his hands as instructed and then took a seat. "Have you seen Remus this morning, Kreacher?"

"Master Harry's friend? He was up and about early, just as Kreacher was finishing the cleaning of the house. Now, does Master want porridge or eggs to begin?"

After a far larger breakfast than he was accustomed to eating, Harry searched the house, though after an hour of looking he couldn't find any evidence that Remus had been there that day. He certainly wasn't now. 

When he had paced around the library with no sign of Remus all morning, Harry tossed a handful of powder into the fire and called the floo at the Burrow. 

"You haven't by any chance heard from Remus, have you?"

"No, haven't seen him since the morning he was on his way out at your place," Ron answered as he crouched in front of the fireplace. He took a large bite of the piece of toast in his hand. "Was he supposed to come by here?" he asked through a spray of crumbs.

Harry hesitated. "No, it's just that -- well, I'm not sure."

Twin spots of color appeared in Ron's cheeks. "Are the two of you, er, having problems?"

"Well, we had a disagreement yesterday --" Harry stopped short. "What do you mean, the two of us?"

Ron looked as though he had been cornered. "I reckon Hermione would be better at explaining it --"

"Explaining what?" Harry demanded. 

With a sigh, Ron said, "You and Remus."

Harry forced a laugh. "There's nothing -- I don't know how Hermione comes up with -- just because we kissed last night --"

"You kissed Remus last night?" Ron asked. His entire face was now bright red. 

"No! Well, I mean yes. But it was all a mistake."

Ron took another fortifying bite of toast and went on despite the wary look on his face. "Hermione says that it's natural you and Remus are drawn together. After all, things have been going all wrong for him, and he can't seem to change much of it. And for you, everything's gone right for the most part, but you can't seem to get yourself to make a change and move on. So it all works out, you see."

"What works out?" Harry cried.

"I don't know, mate. I’m just telling you what Hermione said. Mind, if you ask me," Ron went on, "I'd say that you should just be happy. It was a miserable year last, wasn't it? We couldn't seem to make much progress for a long while, even though we knew what we were supposed to be doing. Now things are better for you, and you can't figure out what comes next."

Harry sputtered. 

"As for Remus, it seemed like everything ended for him at the Battle at Hogwarts. Except it didn't, and now he has a place to stay, and he has you."

"What are you saying, exactly?"

"I'm telling you that if you want Remus to stay with you, and maybe more -- not that you do, I'm just _saying_ \-- then that's all right." Ron brushed the crumbs from his shirt and jeans and stood. "Let's meet for a Butterbeer on Thursday, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Harry said in a daze. He watched Ron's legs move away before pulling his head out of the floo and catching his breath.

* * *

Remus didn't return that day, or the next. 

When Harry opened the door to Remus's bedroom on the third day, everything looked much the same. He couldn't imagine Remus would leave forever without gathering his belongings, so seeing the familiar books and finding some of his worn robes hanging in the wardrobe reassured Harry. Of course he had made sure that Remus's papers and possessions were in place in the other rooms, but finding Remus's bedroom as it had been was a tremendous relief. 

Harry sighed and stretched out on the empty bed. All he wanted was to speak with Remus. Aside from the fact that he hadn't the first idea as to where Remus could have gone, the problem only was he wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

Remus gazing so intently at him, kissing him -- it had startled Harry, without question. Yet somewhere in his mind he must have imagined something like it happening, however shadowy and shunted aside those thoughts had been. How could the possibility not have taken root in his mind, given what he'd found in the attic, given the dreams that had preyed on his mind, given how much he'd begun to recognize that he counted on Remus living with him? 

For the first time, Harry let himself picture what it might be like, really kissing Remus. His breath caught as he remembered the way Remus's thumb caressed his lower lip. No one had made him react that way before. Kissing Cho had never felt more than faintly pleasurable; they might have had more chemistry if they could have worked past her sadness about Cedric and his nervousness about the very idea of dating, but they had never gotten to that point. 

Though he felt close to Ginny, and enjoyed the little physical contact they had, she seemed to like it when he set the pace and initiated everything. He had never thought about it before, but the idea of someone else taking things in hand, of kissing him with deliberation and raw hunger seemed wildly appealing. When he recalled the way Remus had taken control for those brief moments as their mouths surged together, Harry inhaled sharply. 

It would be like that urgent press of lips from that night, he decided as he kicked off his trainers and closed his eyes. He brushed his fingers over his tee shirt as he recalled how Remus's arms felt around him in that close embrace. They would be standing that close, not parted as they had been when their mouths had met. Harry would slide his fingers in Remus's hair, pulling the strands as one of Remus's hands moved up Harry's back underneath his shirt, and their bodies would meet at every point.

He'd never considered what another man's body would feel like against his, but now as he pictured it, he could nearly sense what Remus would feel like. He realized with surprise that he already had a firm idea of how Remus smelled. There on his bed, he could inhale faint traces of the scents he associated with Remus: the plain soap he used, the smell of parchment and ink, the tinge of medicinal salve Remus used if he had scratched himself during the change. Harry moved his head fretfully on Remus's pillow, finally pressing his nose against it to breathe in the combination of those scents at the same time that he eased open his trouser buttons. 

Would Remus be hard right away, moving his hips against Harry's as they kissed? Or would Harry feel his erection grow as he moaned around Remus's tongue, sucking on it when Remus thrust it forcefully into his mouth? Harry bit his lip as he shoved down trousers and pants just enough to wrap his fingers around his prick. His other hand moved to his chest, scratching down the middle and tugging at his nipples. 

What if he let Remus urge him down, following the path of Remus's hands as they pressed? Harry had more than a few times made himself come to the thought of a girl taking his cock in her mouth, and now as he sped the pull of his hand, he discovered he liked the idea of bringing Remus pleasure that way. It wasn't as though he had no experience with cocks, he thought dimly as he reached down to cup his bollocks and fondle his foreskin. He knew his own quite well, and it stood to reason another bloke would like some of the same things he did.

If the idea of Remus's tongue made his breath hitch, the idea of getting Remus to pant because Harry was easing his lips up and down Remus's hard length set him gasping. He bucked into his fist, speeding his strokes until he whimpered into the pillow and came. 

Harry let his eyes close, feeling exhausted in the absence of the tension of the last few days. Perhaps he still didn't know exactly what to say to Remus when they spoke, but now he had more of an idea what he wanted.

* * *

>   
>  _Remus,_
> 
> _We need to talk._
> 
> _Please come home._
> 
> _Harry_

Harry threw down his quill and rolled up the parchment. Though he had no idea where Remus might have gone, he hoped an owl would be able to locate him, much as Hedwig found Sirius years ago. It was all he could think to try now that two more days had passed. 

As he stood to head towards the back of the house and the perch where he kept his owl Segelinde, the door to the room opened.

"Harry," Remus said quietly.

Harry realized his jaw had gone slack; he cleared his throat. "I was just about to send this to you," he said lamely.

Remus crossed the room and took the letter from him. A flicker of a smile crossed his face as he read it, and then his expression became serious once more. "I should never -- I came to apologize for the other night," he said at last.

"Well, I'd rather you didn't yell at me or storm off without a word when I want to talk," Harry replied with care. "If you won't be doing it again, I accept." 

Remus's eyes widened. "I rather meant the part where I, er --"

"Kissed me?" Harry asked in a clear voice. 

With a cough, Remus covered his mouth. "Yes."

"I don't want you to apologize for that." 

Running a hand through his hair, Remus sighed. "I also came by to collect a few of my things."

"Did you even read what I wrote just now?" Harry asked, his voice rising. "Where have you been all this time, anyway?"

"I did read it. It means a great deal to me that you would include me that way, calling this my home. But it isn't mine, Harry, it's yours. I've spent the last days searching for a flat, and I believe I've found one I could possibly lease."

Harry took a ragged breath. "You don't have to do that. I don't want you to, all right? This is your home, if you want it to be, no matter what."

Remus gave him a faint smile and clasped Harry's shoulder. "Much as I might like that --"

Harry reached to take the hand Remus had placed on his shoulder and lifted it to his mouth, kissing the center of Remus's palm. 

Remus froze. "Harry," he whispered. "I --" His throat worked as he swallowed. He drew his hand away. 

"Don't leave." Harry found his voice was calm, though his heart was pounding.

"I . . . won't, at least not right away. But I can't complicate things between us like this. I never meant to confuse you. Really, I think it best if I move out very soon."

Harry gritted his teeth to try to dampen his frustration. "You've built all of this into a problem, but you don't even know how I feel about it."

"Harry." Remus breathed the word out. "You don't -- you can't -- want this."

"I do, I --"

"You're far younger than I am, and though you might think that shouldn't matter, I can tell you it does."

"Who does it matter to?" Harry challenged him. "Because it doesn't matter to me."

Desperation shone in Remus's eyes. "You just ended your relationship with Ginny, and you're confused and lonely. Or perhaps because you haven't settled on what you want to do with your life --"

"I notice you haven't said you don't want me." Harry gazed directly at Remus. "If it's that, if you didn't mean to kiss me the other night because you don't feel anything for me, then I understand if you want to leave. But if you do . . . want me, I mean . . . if what happened the other night meant something to you . . ."

For a moment Harry thought Remus would deny anything and everything to put a stop to their conversation. But then Remus reached out and brushed Harry's fringe out of his eyes. "I didn't let myself think about wanting you, Harry, because . . . I don't get to keep the things I want."

"What if you did this time?" Harry tipped his chin up and took a step forward.

When Remus shook his head, Harry moved still closer. "We've both had to fight for so many things the last few years," he whispered. "Don't fight me now."

"Even if you think you feel that way, there's so much we haven't talked about." Remus took a deep breath. "I hadn't meant to tell you this way, but you must know, before Tonks --"

"You were involved with Sirius," Harry said in a rush.

Remus stared. "You know?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't know the details," Harry hastened to add. Not many of them, at least, he added silently to himself. 

"I don't want you to think I see you as a substitute for him." Remus's voice trembled. "More importantly, I don't want you to see yourself that way. Starting a relationship that way that could be disastrous."

"Of course I don't think either of those things," Harry said impatiently. 

"That's not even to address the problems posed by the fact that I’m a werewolf and a single parent of a very young child."

"Why would any of that stop me?"

A beat went by, and Remus unexpectedly grinned. "I don't know how you seem so confident about all of this."

"Well, you may not know this about me, but I've been through a dramatic situation or two in my time," Harry confided.

Remus threw back his head and laughed.

* * *

After their talk in the library, they had a light supper together in the kitchen. Over a cup of tea, Remus told Harry he wished to take things slowly. 

Harry nodded at that, and said, "Just so you know, I brought myself off on your bed while you were gone, thinking about you." 

After opening and closing his mouth several times, Remus leapt up, took Harry's hand and dragged them both up to his bedroom.

Once in the room, they fumbled as they kissed one another, until Harry said, "I want you to tell me what to do tonight, be the one to decide everything." 

Remus cupped his cheek and said, "Are you sure? Do you have an idea what that means?" 

Harry put his hand over Remus's and said, "I think so -- I want to. Show me?"

That was how a short while later Harry found himself on Remus's lap; his legs sprawled astride Remus's as he faced away from him, his back to Remus's front.

"Yes," Remus whispered. "You see yourself?" He gestured to the mirror across the room, which reflected both of them. 

Harry licked his lips and nodded. He watched, fascinated, as Remus drew a finger down his neck, over his sternum, and stopped just at the base of his cock. While only Remus's shirt had been discarded, all of Harry's clothes were in a pile on the floor. 

"Do you see how lovely you are?" Remus threaded his fingers in Harry's hair, using his hold to expose Harry's neck so that he could mouth and bite it. 

"Remus, please," Harry choked. 

"Now." Harry shivered as Remus breathed the word against his ear. "Reach one arm back and around my neck -- that's right . . . hold on to me, Harry . . ."

Harry bit his lip as the stretch of his arm behind him arched his body. He clutched at the nape of Remus's neck, feeling the brush of Remus's soft hair against his knuckles.

"Take your other hand, and hold the arm of the chair -- yes," Remus encouraged him as Harry gripped the wood end of the curled arm. "Don't move your hands from where they are. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," Harry hissed. He felt exposed and off balance, but the thrill of letting Remus do this, of trusting him so much, was heady. 

Remus nuzzled his ear. "Do you like this? You want to keep going this way for now?"

In answer, Harry rolled his hips forward.

"Christ, you're gorgeous," Remus murmured. "I'm going to stroke that pretty cock of yours now, make you squirm and shudder until you can barely breathe."

"Oh god," Harry mouthed as skillful fingers began to caress and then pull at his erection.

"Let me hear you," Remus told him.

"Oh, oh," Harry panted. "It feels so --" He cut himself off with a sharp cry, and Remus turned Harry's head back to claim his lips and kiss him ferociously.

Harry could feel the press of Remus's length at his backside, and as he dug his fingernails into the soft skin of Remus's neck, he bowed his back in order to rub against that enticing hardness before tilting his hips up once again.

"Watch in the mirror once more," Remus instructed, his voice strained.

His cheeks burning, Harry turned his gaze back to the vision of the two of them: Remus's intent eyes reflected back, not missing a single quiver or moan as he drank in Harry's pose and reactions, Harry's own dazed eyes revealing the extent to which he had succumbed to this overwhelming experience. 

"I want to see you," Remus whispered, his eyes locked with Harry's.

Harry struggled to watch, to keep his eyes open as he came at the sight of Remus holding him, stroking him, possessing him.

* * *

"It doesn't have to be that way every time, you know," Remus said in the darkness. He gathered Harry close, combing his fingers through his hair.

"I liked it," Harry said in a sleepy voice. Remus's bed was far more comfortable than the one in Sirius's bedroom, he had decided. In fact, he felt more at home in this bedroom than he had in the entire house for months. 

Remus laughed. "Not just what we tried this time, but the way we tried it -- having me in control."

Harry turned and rubbed his cheek against Remus's. "I liked that too."

"We'll see." Remus sounded amused. 

Their lips met, and then Harry moved lower, to stroke his cheek against Remus's chest and scatter kisses there. 

"Hmm," Remus hummed.

Harry shifted slightly, closer to Remus's warmth. "I'd like to help you."

For a moment, Remus stopped his caresses. "What I said that night before I left the first time -- you've helped me already, Harry, and believe me, I know that."

"Not --" Harry flicked his tongue out and wet Remus's nipple before blowing on it. "Not that way."

Remus skimmed his hand across Harry's shoulders, then tugged at his hair. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, then," he teased.

Harry slid along the mattress, kissing Remus's navel and tracing his way further down with his lips. "I'll show you."

Remus added a slight pressure to Harry's shoulders, not forcing in any way, just guiding. "That I look forward to seeing."


End file.
